Nor
was she different at luncheon or at dinner. During the day he saw
nothing of her, and he was growing conscious of the fact that she was
purposely avoiding contact with him. This did not displease him. It
allowed him to pick up the threads of other interests in a normal sort
of way. He discussed Alaskan politics in the smoking-room, smoked his
black pipe without fear of giving offense, and listened to the talk of
the ship with a freedom of mind which he had not experienced since his
first meeting with Miss Standish. Yet, as night drew on, and he walked
his two-mile promenade about the deck, he felt gathering about him a
peculiar impression of aloneness. Something was missing. He did not
acknowledge to himself what it was until, as if to convict him, he saw
Mary Standish come out of the door leading from her cabin passageway,
and stand alone at the rail of the ship. For a moment he hesitated,
then quietly he came up beside her.
"It has been a wonderful day, Miss Standish," he said, "and Cordova is
only a few hours ahead of us."
She scarcely turned her face and continued to look off into the
shrouding darkness of the sea. "Yes, a wonderful day, Mr. Holt," she
repeated after him, "and Cordova is only a few hours ahead." Then, in
the same soft, unemotional voice, she added: "I want to thank you for
last night.
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